John Terry Revisited!
Monday, May 26th, 2008Last Wednesday night should’ve been a textbook evening. Despite my worst football fears being realised, Chelsea appearing in a Champions league final, there was every chance that the ultimate indignity would be realised too! Actually losing it!
I’m no fan of JT, as a player or a man. I’m sure he’s a great pro and missing an occasion like this would be heartbreaking for anyone, but I was only surprised that his injury was on the football field not some kind of metal pole/piss/electricity incident in a lap-dancing establishment.
Anyway he made it and I returned in good time from a long drive to Somerset to settle down and watch.
With me was Rogue Junior, hoping to nap through his first final. RJ will not be a regular feature of this blog, but he’s relevant here.
Everything seemed to be going to plan, Utd, as far superior team, swarmed over the hapless hotel team and should’ve been long out of sight by the time that Frank ‘no longer hated because he loved his mum’ Lampards pinball equaliser. It was getting uncomfortable.
At least, I thought, if They win after being so comprehensively outplayed, I’ll be able to find solace there.
But no. Chelsea dominated the second half, RJ slept on, I sank into the sofa. It seemed the tide had decisively turned…but I’d reckoned without the presence of one man! JT.
Again I reiterate, I don’t think he’s anywhere near the best centre back in England, but if you like your defenders cut in classical English cloth, obdurate, slow on the turn and usually in the way, then I can concede his worth. His header off the line from Giggs was nothing short of magnificent. I couldn’t believe it, just as the footballing gods were beginning to see sense, one man was going to drag them over the line.
His influence grew. A minor spat was escalated (his speciality) into a brawl that ended with his own player getting sent off. As a charming rejoinder Terry ’snotted’ on Tevez (who would later accuse him of spitting as I’m sure that the South Americans had never come across this most delightful of acts).
Chelsea hung on; penalties and they had a German…booo!
These were remarkably competent, of course Ronaldo missed and it was left to our hero to step up and consign Utd and my evening (and probably the whole summer to oblivion).
…And then it happened, it wasn’t fate, or the wet turf. Terry missed because he’d forgotten that he couldn’t really play. Rather than smacking the ball like he was clearing his lines or tackling a lap dancer, he decided to be clever…he’d seen others doubt, why not him.
As he planted his standing foot he opened it out, Van Der Sar expecting the rocket had already gone right, Terry had done him, like a Maradonna or a Pele he’d fooled the keeper, but unlike them he’s 15 stone of thud and blunder and all that weight going the wrong way had to buckle and so it came to pass…Jt on his arse, crying like a baby!
The inevitable happened and it was nice that a true mercenary in the new Chelsea tradition ambled forward to strike an indifferent Penalty to lose the Cup…drained, but happy, my night was complete.
Terry was inconsolable, I should’ve been delighted…but I wasn’t. Why? Because of the seven week bundle on my lap.
RJ had a difficult start, took a battering from the forceps and coupled with the usual stretched head look so fashionable with the newborn and a bizarrely tufty hairstyle…he actually looked like John Terry!!!
He’s settled down now…looks like a baby, but my gaze went from him to Terry I found I couldn’t laugh. I felt sorry for him…
…Having a child does change your life!
